That smiley exterior
Onwards from morn
Once you had worn
Now drabbly overlayed with
Its own sort. Lorn.
I refer to this manor.
Old; ghostly blown
Tempts none; be known!
Droopy, empty windowed. Of
Ravens outflown.
Graciousness forms
the apparel of the meek,
tempered in blistering
hues of aura crafted
with the breath of
exhaustion sinking
deep into the soul
of the soulless,
there it wanders
with eyes open wide,
a pop of life silenced
by its surroundings,
forsaken lands filled
with despotic nature,
crucified
their interior along
with their exterior,
proceeding cautiously
as it gravitates
toward the center,
connecting humble
origins placing
the palm of its heart onto
forced separation,
the wind wraps
around creating
sanctuary healing
the wounded descent
of sacrifice,
predetermined
by its antecedents,
a child born
through ashes into
the world's callous
ever ruling
appeal.
Physical is the coat I wear-out
in the elements – the ephemeral
shell of me, and not the yoke, man's
embryo of spiritual wealth...longevity of
experience and immortal growth –
True! -- of the Eternal Now in my
biological years not one has convincingly
surfaced, risen above the depths of doubt
to undeniably attest, my only proof
the intimate echo of a heart-heard
voice, reciting from the velum of a
supposed soul, surfacing despite the negative
chatter of fatalists: lordly provocateurs
of fiery electrons, rejecting sparks
of individual ethereal sense: despite no two of
us ever proven exactly alike, each of us
the unlikely oddity of billions....
a mathematical contradiction that
can only be attributed to the reality
of a God....
Shine that translucid your exterior
Peace the almighty concede
Living in the present
Scissoring branches cut ribbons of wind
As the wall of the distant dawn
Paints itself gold
A few fugitive leaves scurry away
While their fellows cling to the bough
And whisper papery lament
Fingers of frost cake the roots beneath
And trapped in the stiff ground
Lonely seeds await
Cold and steady beneath heated hues
Of the hands and veins of the fallen
Succor to the next season
The new sun's bright yawning shout
Makes the ice on pond sweat
The hoar turns to dew
The knowing seed, the patient seed
Puny seed nestles in the earth
Its parent droops its cracked nudity
At last spry green tendrils peek
To read the eyeless braille of spring
Out of softened soil
Immortal soil, rotten soil
The life-giving rot
The rot giving life
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